


Halam'shivanas

by chaoticjin



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Angst and Drama, Character Death, Drama, Eventual Smut, Explicit Language, F/M, Fluff, Magic, Minor Character Death, Multi, Possibly Unrequited Love, Post-Dragon Age: Inquisition, Slow Burn, Star-crossed, a lot of angst im sorry, climb aboard the angst train, fluff somewhere in there, lots of elven stuff, mages lots of mages, solas is my egg man
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-27
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:54:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26682511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaoticjin/pseuds/chaoticjin
Summary: The subtle lurking of total annihilation of the world we know is a great motivator, but is it enough? A story after the end of Dragon Age: Inquisitions starts off with Fira Lavellan, previously 'The Inquisitor', trying to reorient herself in a world that no longer needs her nor wants her. The Wardens have gone quiet, a war rages between Tevinter and the Qunari, the South is all but unsteady, and to top it all of Solas is going to tear open the veil to let this world burn to let a world of Elves rise from the ashes.Will love be enough to stop total destruction or is it inevitable?Is it even worth saving?
Relationships: Female Inquisitor/Cullen Rutherford, Female Inquisitor/Cullen Rutherford/Solas, Female Inquisitor/Solas (Dragon Age)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 2





	1. Prologue: Las Melava

**Author's Note:**

> Heyo!
> 
> There is going to be Elvish in this, so be warned that it's very 'elfy'. I'm creating this completely from my own imagination and have no idea what Dragon Age 4 is actually like, so...I'm sorry if it doesn't live up to your standards!
> 
> Like all Dragon Age games this is most likely going to be an angst fest for everyone with the sprinkling of dark humor, fabulous mustaches (Dorian), and the fate of the world resting on one person's shoulders (again)!
> 
> Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoy this!

The world was forever changed after what had transpired in Orlais on 9:44 in the Dragon Age. It didn’t seem like much more could change, what with a giant scar that still covered the sky in a faint green hue. Within a decade the political, physical, and emotional landscape of Thedas had changed so drastically that no one could really fathom anything else happening, but of course they’re ignorant to the truth. No one knew the danger that was lurking just under the surface of this unsteady peace that Thedas had settled into. The growing unrest in the North between The Tevinter Imperium and The Qunari was bound to reach the South soon enough—but that wasn’t the main threat.

Solas’ sad eyes still reflect in Fira’s memories all too often, and it had been around 6 months ago that it all had happened. She could scarcely believe it—time is such a fickle thing; so quick when it wants to be and so slow when it wants to twist the knife. Still, it seemed like yesterday that the resounding thud of the Inquisition’s book had landed on the Exalted Council’s chamber floor. The anger that had built within her chest for the days that the talks had happened still felt fresh from time to time, the wound still bleeding. Disbanding the Inquisition was both the hardest and easiest decision she had made since being thrust out into the world stage so unceremoniously. Before her train of thought could continue, Fira felt the tingling sensation of magic running through her fingertips—which only meant one thing.

_Dorian was finally calling._

It had been too long since they last spoke, especially with the rising war between Tevinter and the Qunari. One of her closest friends being so far away was difficult, especially with Solas out there. Fira lets out a shaking breath, she didn’t want to think of his face at the moment—not yet. The elf set the stone down and, like a reflection in water, Dorian’s face appeared above it. This was possibly the best gift Dorian had ever given—the only gift—but the best.

“There she is!” Dorian says in his normal grandiose fashion, but Fira could tell that he seemed worn already. His face was still sun-kissed, but there was a thinness there—like sometimes you could mistake him for glass even if he was anything but.

“Dorian, I missed you. You took longer to report in this time.” Fira tried hard to disguise her worry but didn’t quite succeed; being a red head meant wearing her emotions on her sleeve. She sat herself down at the small wooden table, a fire crackling gently to her right illuminating her face in a soft orange glow.

“I do apologize…things have gotten a bit dicey.” Dorian pauses, eyebrows knitting together, eyes averting as if he’s thinking of what to say—or… _how_ to say it. Fira assumes ‘dicey’ is putting it mildly.

“What is it?” Fira coaxes, golden eyes hardening at the sudden shift in demeanor. She could already tell she didn’t like where this was going.

“I didn’t want to worry you, Fira.” It was strange hearing him say her name now—it wasn’t like she was the Inquisitor, but it felt like one thing after another had been stripped away from her. It had been her identity for so long and now she was just her. No mark, no special powers; just plain.

“Your saying that is worrying me.” Fira’s frown deepens and Dorian sighs in defeat, running a hand over his face.

“It’s getting _worse_. We thought it would be like it always was: skirmishes, threats, spies, and the like but it’s gone into full scale battles in some places. It’s mostly centered on the coast of the Nocen Sea, the first place the Qunari would have to land if they wanted into Tevinter.” Dorian explains, and Fira was already looking at a map to get an understanding of exactly where Dorian meant.

“They haven’t gotten too big for their breeches thankfully, because none of them dared to fully attack any _major_ city yet like, Maker forbid, Minrathous.” Dorian explains, and Fira’s right hand skims over the printed city name, right on the edge of Tevinter and the Northern most city within it.

“Is that where you are?” Fira glances up at Dorian’s face, eyebrows furrowed. It was a stupid question, really. As a magister Dorian was most definitely in Minrathous. As Tevinter’s capital and also the biggest city in Thedas, he would have to be there to do his job—which was obviously getting more stressful.

“Yes.” Dorian simply answers, “they have already attacked smaller cities…I worry they will attack Ventus next.” Fira furrows her eyebrows at the map, not seeing Ventus anywhere.

“I don’t see a ‘Ventus’” Fira mumbles and Dorian let’s out the faintest chuckle.

“I forgot, the South doesn’t much care for keeping up with changing Tevinter names. Ventus is Qarinus, it was changed because of a Tevinter war victory a while ago. It’s…strategically important and where my family is from.” Dorian explains, his nerves bubbling up to the surface.

“Dorian…if there’s anything I can do—” Dorian holds up his hand and shakes his head.

“You have your own things to worry about, Fira. I don’t think it will come to it, my friend. Perhaps they’ll just be playing a very deadly game of chicken with us—although I feel like an emphasis on deadly is needed here.” Dorian manages to get her to smile a little, shaking her head.

“Speaking of which…do you know what you’re going to do?” He asks softly. He had been there during the Exalted Council, had fought alongside her as she struggled not to die because of the unstable magic spreading through her veins. It was traumatic for her, obviously, but sometimes she forgets about those around her too.

“I’ll figure it out.” Fira says with a noncommittal shrug, even though her answer spoke volumes to one like Dorian. “It’s only been 6 months, and I have to be careful who I let in—it feels like I’m always going to have to be looking over my shoulder now.” Fira admits, the lack of weight on her left shoulder becoming more apparent, ironically.

“I know.” It’s acknowledgement at least, more than many others have given her. People were content to forget about her, about the past, and the inquisition itself. “But you still have the most important people, do you not? Even if Leliana is _Divine Victoria._ I’ll never get used to that by the way.” He mutters the last part to himself.

It was true, Cullen remained as did Leliana and Cassandra. It doesn’t mean it’s easy, Cassandra is even more paranoid than Fira and Leliana has the whole of Thedas to try and please. Josephine wanted to remain, but her family needed her in Antiva and Fira couldn’t keep her here longer than she already had. The ambassador still writes, however, even if it doesn’t fill the silence that she could’ve.

“The Lucerni are still vying for a more liberal Tevinter, and theres been no assassination attempts! Yet.” Dorian changes the subject to something else as Fira settles back into her chair. “We’ve gotten more and more support over the last few months, I’m surprised actually. I feel like it’s my charm and the fact I helped save the world. It have fans!” It was _almost_ like normal, speaking to each other this way; Dorian with his glib quips and Fira matching them, it was comfortable. But it couldn’t last. 

There was a bit of a commotion on the other side, causing Dorian to jump and then tsk at whoever startled him, “Maevaris, you know better than to do that—.“ Dorian shoots a small smile over to his mage friend, “duty calls, my friend. I’ll call soon.” He says as the vision fades and the stone went cold. The magic that had been singing in the air had all gone quiet, and Fira was left alone with her thoughts again. It was silent now, save for the sounds of the outside but that only made her feel more alone.

When she disbanded the Inquisition, she and those who stayed left Skyhold, venturing higher into the mountains mostly to stay on the outskirts of Orlais and Ferelden, even if Leliana had to come and go, it made things easier. Compared to Skyhold and everything they built prior; it was like going from Val Royeaux to an elven alienage in Denerim. There were no wardens, no extensive mage help, no help from Celene _or_ Briala. They had gotten a few builders to construct buildings to shelter them against the cold weather and the best mounts that Master Dennett gave them. The rest were given to companions as they went their own way—Fira didn’t know if any of them were coming back.

Fira had her own house, a twin bed sitting in the corner with a larger table in the middle of the room for the map that she constantly stared at. It was possible movements of the elves’ exodus from every human city in Thedas—a huge precise movement could only mean that Solas was behind it. It was obvious, of course, but still Fira could hardly believe the love of her life was capable of doing this—that she hardly knew him. At present, they hadn’t found much regarding Solas or who the elven spies were. With him controlling the Eluvians it was going to be more difficult to track him down than if he had been traveling by conventional means. Fira hadn’t even truly begun trying to rehabilitate herself after losing her arm either, and ghost pains remain on skin that didn’t exist anymore.

As the wind picked up outside, the snow flurrying outside the window across from her, Fira’s eyes could see her reflection in the glass. The Vallaslin were gone, and everything she had ever known about her people was wrong. These ‘Evanuris’ that could possibly be alive, the knowledge that was sealed behind the Veil…it all had extreme implications not even the smartest person could discern right now. But Fira knew in her heart that it wasn’t going to be easy, there was trouble brewing from every corner of the world, and one problem threatened to destroy it entirely. All Fira could do is get better, hope, and **_find him_** _._


	2. Uthenera

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Uthenera, the eternal sleep, plagues those who are the eldest of the elves when their spirits grow tired of the life they lead. Their body doesn't truly die until it starves and is not looked after. They enter the eternal sleep and stay forever.
> 
> Why does Fira need that?

A heavy thud reverberated up Fira’s spine as her ass was firmly planted upon the ground. A groan escaped her lips, at this point her bruises had bruises. Fira’s hand quickly comes up and brushes the hair out of her face eyebrows furrowed as she can’t help but glare up at the man who was ‘retraining’ her. It felt incredibly pointless, since she was used to fighting with a staff and magic her whole life but since the mark had drained her so thoroughly it seemed like her magic had gone with it when her arm was removed. Now and again she can feel the tiny sparks of magic filtering through her skin to her fingertips, but every time she tries focusing on it the feeling fades as quickly as it came.

“You know…if I was an actual enemy, you’d be dead.” The familiar voice brought her out of her mind, and she resumed glaring up at him, feeling the heat of embarrassment and anger flood her chest and cheeks. Why she had agreed to have Cullen train her was lost on her at this very moment, when all she wanted to do was grab his shield and hit him over the head with it.

“Is that a catchphrase for you?” Fira mutters, stumbling up to her feet leaning on the sword in her hand. Cullen let’s out an almost sarcastic laugh shaking his head.

“No, it’s me being _honest,_ Fira. I’m here to help you as much as I can. I’m retired from active service officially, so I have all the time in the world!” Cullen spins the sword in his hand, already rearing to go and attack the poor girl again. Fira grunts in unwillingness, who’d _want_ to get put on their ass again and again? Not counting Iron Bull, obviously.

“Cullen, this is pointless.” Frustration had been simmering at the edges of her mind for months now. It had already been 6 months since she had last spoken to Dorian, a full year since the Exalted Council, and it seems they were no closer to finding Solas or Fira getting better. Cullen’s slight smile turned into a frown quickly and he lowered his sword and shield.

“Fira, it’s not. You’re getting better every day and considering…you only started 6 months ago…” Cullen could see that she was struggling more and more with her situation, and he saw a lot of himself within her. The struggling, the avoidance, the wanting to forget and just move on—it was making his heart clench. Fira glances away after noticing Cullen’s gaze, shoulders sagging.

“I can’t use a sword. I can’t…” Fira was soon interrupted by Cassandra’s voice and the crunching of snow behind her.

“Maybe you don’t have to.” Cassandra comes up from behind standing between the two, crossing her arms with her signature scowl. Fira was pretty sure that’s just her face and she wasn’t in a bad mood.

“What?” Cullen was incredulous, eyes narrowing at the other warrior. “We’ve been over this, she’s tried.” Fira shifts uncomfortably, she always did dislike how her advisors talked about her _in front of her._

“We always gave her a way out. You give someone a sword and expect them to use other abilities?” Fira could see where this was going and her eyes widened but before she could protest, Cullen did it for her.

“What?! I’m not going to _swing a sword_ at an unarmed person!”

“Unarmed—that’s rude—” Fira tried to protest the wording of that sentence but Cassandra and Cullen were already at it, so any protest she had fell upon deaf ears.

“She isn’t at a disadvantage. Even before the mark, her magic was extremely powerful. I think this is more mental than anything, and thus we must treat it as such.” Cassandra explained and Cullen still shook his head.

“I am _not hitting her_.” Cullen shared a meaningful glance towards Fira and then his gaze hardened back at Cassandra and she heaved a sigh, picking up the sword from the ground that Fira had let fall during their conversation.

“Then I will,” Cassandra said simply and turned to Fira. Her eyes were stone cold like she was going into battle. Fira knew she’d have no mercy with what she was about to do. Cassandra’s grip on the sword tightened and soon she was swinging at the woman she had vowed to protect. It wasn’t ideal, of course, and Cassandra would much rather be training her to use a sword, but it wasn’t working. Cassandra wasn’t the type to try and try again.

“Cassandra—” Fira was interrupted by the metal singing through the air and it was all she could do to roll out of the way. Her body wasn’t used to that movement just yet, but it was instinct. Her empty shoulder collided with the ground as she rolled, causing a small gasp to be yanked from her lungs as she rolled out of it and onto her feet. The momentum almost caused her to go tumbling down but her feet planted into the damp mud and snow. Cassandra didn’t stop though; the air was cut with precision.

Fira wasn’t fast enough but there was an electricity that seemed to start up within her brain. Her whole body poised and strong, a whispering in her mind that grew to a scream. Just as the sword was about to cut her down a wave of magic exploded from her body. It moved the air, the snow, the ground, and the sword with it; pushing Cassandra back at least three feet and into the snow behind her. It was a glorious moment, like everything in the world had returned to color for a few seconds. A few seconds and the world was right again, until it all came tumbling down along with Fira.

She didn’t realize she was gasping for breath as she hit the ground, arm wrapping around her own chest as she tried to breathe. Her legs felt like mush and her body felt like it had been electrified; muscles that were once dormant were twitching. Cullen immediately ran up to her side, he was saying something, but it was muffled. The screaming in her head hadn’t stopped, it was like using magic had opened a Pandora’s Box within her mind. Everything she had tried to forget started rushing up into her conscious mind.

“Fira! Fira! Inquisitor! Dammit.” Cullen shook her with more force this time, her eyes looked hazy and almost a greenish-white. She definitely wasn’t ‘here’ and Cullen didn’t like the fearful look on her face. He quickly picked her up and rushed her into the closest building which just happened to be her own. He laid her out on the bed as Cassandra rushed in behind him.

“At least we know she’s capable of it—” Cullen’s jaw sets and he brings his gaze over to her.

“Capable? Look at her, Seeker!” He says and motions to Fira, “do you think this is capable? If this is what happens every time she uses magic then she’s better off with a sword or nothing at all!” Cullen shakes his head and sighs, looking down at Fira with worry. Cassandra felt a pang of guilt, but this was an important step for Fira if she came out of it.

“I’ll…call for Leliana to get some healers here. Ours are gone now, since we sent them away after the Inquisition disbanded.” The Seeker explains and Cullen nods, pulling up a chair to sit next to Fira’s bed. The elf was twitching still, eyes wide open but not fully there. Cullen could only imagine what was going on…

~

Sun filtered into her eyes making her wince, a hand coming up on instinct to block some of it. Fira’s eyes adjusted slowly as she sat up within a field of tall grass and flowers. With eyebrows knitting together, she slowly stumbled up to her feet. She didn’t remember getting here, she hardly remembered anything at all. Fira frowns glancing down at her hands, they were _normal._

“Da’len.” A familiar voice echoes from in front of her causing her eyes to snap up to see Keeper Istimaethoriel. Fira’s eyebrows raise, a shaking breath falling from her lips as she stumbles forward and hugs her tightly.

“Keeper! Why are you here?! Where am I?” Fira could barely hold the tears back that were starting to spring at the corners of her eyes. It was almost too much; she hadn’t seen her clan—her family—in years. These years felt like centuries, in truth.

“Oh Da’len…” The Keeper gently grips the other’s arms and moves her back so she can gaze at her clear face, a small smile forms on her face. “I have much to show you and much to explain.” The Keeper gently takes her hand and leads her through the field and all of a sudden, they were in a forest of tall trees reaching up to touch the sky.

“Da’len…your spirit is broken and weary. I can feel it fading quickly, so this must be quick. You have been tired of this world for so long.” The Keeper explains as the thick forest of trees gives way to a small clearing, illuminated blue by a small lake in the middle of it. Flickers of magic spark from the water that sits there unmoving.

“What…do you mean?” Fira could hardly tear her eyes from the water until she felt the Keeper’s hand fall from hers making her attention go back to the woman in front of her.

“After everything you have gone through, after Fen’Harel leaving you to die, your heart is weary. Losing the thing you thought made you special, you feel you have nothing. Your spirit is tired. Your body is healthy, your mind is not dying, but your spirit is.” Keeper explains softly, her staff gently grazing the water’s surface, disturbing its glass like appearance.

“We have a word for this when our elders had weakened spirits. Where they stepped aside to let others continue to live.” The Keeper pauses and Fira slowly came to realize that this wasn’t real. She should’ve known, considering she had both hands.

“Uthenera.” Fira finishes for the other, the Keeper nods solemnly. “Why…why me? I’m not an elder. I’m not old!” she feels panic rise in her chest, the tears finally falling from her eyes and down her cheeks.

“You have lived through more than one should in a lifetime. Your spirit is tired. You let it take on most of the burden…you can forget, but it cannot.” The Keeper explains and glances back at Fira.

“You will not wake up if you do not face it.” Her voice is stern yet still loving, but Fira was still trying to wrap her mind around what was happening exactly. Uthenera…it was only a dream of the ancient elves. Present-day elves don’t experience it they only experience death, so why her? Fira shouldn’t be surprised considering everything else she had known about her people was turned upside down when she was using the Eluvians.

“It’s happening because you are not a normal elf any longer, Fira. You have the knowledge of High Priests, the Mark of Power has touched you, you are closer to the Ancient Elves than you know.” The Keeper explains as if she was reading Fira’s mind. Fira frowns at the thought and lets out a sigh.

“I can’t.” Fira mumbles, swallowing thickly. If she did it made it real, and too much had already happened. It was hard for one person to face; it was like a whole mountain was in front of her and she had no footholds to begin climbing it. With the Inquisition disbanded there wasn’t going to be any help, they had no allies, no spies. It was Fira and her advisors.

“If you don’t, you will remain here.” The Keeper says simply. “You will remain here for Uthenera, your mind will be alive as will your body, but your spirit will be gone. You will reach true death soon after unless they continue feeding you.” It was grizzly to hear so matter-of-factly. There was a silence that stretched on for seconds, minutes, maybe days. Time meant nothing here.

Fira couldn’t remain here, she knew that logically (logic was all she had left at this point). But it was harder to put into practice when she knew what was under the surface, everything she pushed down.

“What must I do?” She asks softly, and the Keeper motions to the water. It’s not like she wanted to, but she had no choice. It was either stay here and slowly face 'true death' or face whatever is going to be happening within those waters.

“Submerge yourself. You will see.” Her staff disturbs the water further, wisps of magic flying from the water as whispers fill the air. It was like the Well of Sorrows, but it felt ‘busier’ it wanted to be heard. It wanted to be seen.

Fira walks through the grass, bare feet brushing over the dirt and twigs. Her footsteps were surprisingly quiet even as she stepped on leaves. The whispers got louder as she neared the water, mist starting to rise from it. She steps down into the water, the rush of cold makes her gasp.

“Keeper…” She starts as the mist gets thicker and she turns as she is waist-deep in the middle of the lake, but the mist is too thick to see much now. Fira sees the top of a familiar head, causing her eyes to widen. She felt as if she knew this person—this person pretending to be her Keeper. Thinking of it now, it would make no sense for a living keeper to be within her Uthenera.

“Wait!” She screams, starting to move out of the water but hands seem to reach out of the water and grip her arms and shoulders and pull her down into the water. Thrashing, fighting, screaming. Water fills her lungs as the whispers rise into screams and yells. The screams echo her own, pain floods her arm, floods her senses.

Echoes of familiar voices, one that stands out from most. **_Solas._** “Ir abelas, ma vhenan.” It echoed softly, but the pain was familiar. Everything she had pushed down, the fear, the anger, the sadness choked her. Every death caused by her, everything went wrong; it was hers to take on and hers to move on from. But it wasn’t easy, Maker knows it isn’t. It hurts, her chest constricts that the thought of it.

A light formed in her vision like she was under the sea and could finally see the surface shining in front of her. But she was getting dragged down slow and steady. It wasn’t going to stop no matter how hard she thrashed to keep herself afloat, to keep from disappearing into the inky blackness of whatever sea she was under. It was getting harder to breathe, her lungs seemed to be filling with this water that she didn’t remember getting into her lungs in the first place. _It’s impossible. Living is impossible, she’d never get out of this. It’s too much. This was a mistake, a mistake—she was always a mistake. All she could see were the people who died to get her here, Chancellor Roderick, Hawke, the Wardens, the Templars, and the fact that Solas left her. She couldn’t mean much if he—_

_“Fira!”_ A familiar voice yelled, who was that? It sounded so…far off. So blurry. Fira could hardly hear it, and yet there it was again.

“Fira! Please—you need to come back. We _need_ you.” It was a man? A man… **Cullen**! Cullen…he must be near her body. Her body…oh Gods. She hadn’t thought of that, hadn’t thought of the real-life implications of her…dying. Thinking of the word now made her throat close. Then it wasn’t just Cullen who she was thinking about: it was Leliana, Josephine, Cassandra, _Varric_ who would kill her if she died right now. Fira might not be strong enough alone, not right now, but…she wasn’t alone. Not yet, anyway. Things weren’t perfect, not by a long shot but…they needed her.

“Please. We can’t do this without you. _I_ can’t.” There was such sadness within his urgent pleading. Fira had stopped fighting for a moment, long enough to almost lose sight of the surface. The incessant talking in Elvish was louder almost pushing out her every thought. For some reason she knew these voices were her every misstep, her every wrongdoing, every person she couldn’t save…but that list would only get longer if she didn’t _fight._ On instinct her feet kicked out, she could feel the resistance of whatever was on her ankles, but she didn’t stop. Her hands fought through the water using every bit of strength to fight through the thoughts that intended to drown her.

As she fought and struggled with all her strength she could feel the grip loosening on her ankles as she kicked and flailed. Cullen’s voice was gone, but now she was fighting to hear it again. To hear them bicker, to hear Cassandra be predictable, to hear Varric’s stories, to see Solas’ eyes again whether it be for the last time or not.

Before, Fira wouldn’t fight to get to the surface. She wouldn’t have swam as hard as she was now. She had unfinished business; Fira needed to find Solas, needed to stop the world from burning around her. If _she_ didn’t, who would? This wasn’t about being special, it wasn’t about being better than everyone else, it was simply about doing the things that others wouldn’t; power or not. It was going to be hard; it was going to be filled with pain. The path to something right is never easy it is never without pain. But Cullen’s voice…it had spurred something inside of her that had long been forgotten, it made her remember. Remember that, even with the fate of the world on her shoulders, her burdens were never just hers. People cared…and they would come running if she asked.

Fira pushed herself as she felt the air leaving her lungs, the anxiety of not reaching the surface in time rising in her chest to meet with the determination of trying to live. It was burning, every inch of her body was burning with the will to live and the determination to not die. Fira was so close, so close to being able to see their faces again, close enough to again be able to right the wrongs of this world or _die trying._ Her fingertips could feel the surface, feel the air, and then—silence.

_Mala suledin nadas._

~

Fire gasps as she sits up in the bed, startling whoever was beside her who had been patting her forehead with something. She coughs, choking as if she had just come out of water, the sweet air filling her lungs as her hand grips tightly onto the bedding.

“Fira!” A familiar voice rang out. Cullen. **_Cullen._** Hearing him right beside her was enough to make her cry. The blond was quickly at her side, and what she could only assume was Adan. “You—you’re awake.” He says softly, relief evident in his voice and features.

“It was like you were under a spell…your eyes were open but hazy—completely white. Adan got here weeks ago.” Cullen explains and Fira was staring at Cullen, hand about to brush against his cheek until…

“Weeks?” It had only been a few minutes for her, she wasn’t sure how time had passed at all. That means she lost weeks of time to be doing things out here.

“It’s been a month. We got people here to help. It’s not as big as the Inquisition was, but it’s bigger than just us now…which is a good thing.” Fira could tell there was more to it than that, but she was too shaken to ask. Cassandra had finally run in, Leliana tailing behind her.

“Inquisitor!” Cassandra looked beside herself with guilt—the only time Fira had ever seen her this way was when they found the Seekers. “I…I am so sorry.” She mumbles, and Fira shakes her head. If only she knew that her face, among others, was the only thing that got Fira back…

“It wasn’t you…in fact, I think it was needed. I…I wasn’t completely unaware. I could hear somewhat.” Fira admits softly, Cullen looked like he was about to choke until Adan clears his own throat.

“Can you stop trying to die on us? It’d be appreciated. Too many things have gone wrong in a month.” Adan was still his snarky self, it almost made Fira laugh except for the ‘things have gone terribly wrong’ part. When don’t they go wrong?

“Adan is right. Tevinter is now in a full-scale war with the Qunari, and the South is going to be dragged along with it. My human spies have found some things that could possibly lead to Solas as well. Not to mention the Wardens have gone completely silent, Alistair was the first one to go quiet but now it’s the rest of the order and I fear the worst.” Leliana’s interjected, her voice was one of reason but underneath that façade, Fira could tell that she was truly shaken.

Dorian had thought that war wasn’t going to be happening, so what went wrong? Fira needed to hear from him to get the full story from someone actually in Tevinter. Everyone in the room was staring at her expectantly, and Fira pushed herself up to her feet. Not standing for a month sure made it hard to…well, stand.

“Then we have no time to waste. I need to contact Dorian if anything he can give us more insight into what Tevinter is planning to do. Leliana I want your spies to go north to Weisshaupt to scout ahead. Cullen, we’re going to need a _small_ force if we’re to get anything done. Make sure they’re human and have no ties to Kirkwall.” Fira commands and glances towards Cassandra, “I want you to help Leliana. You were the right hand of the Divine and have worked with her longer than any of us. Help her coordinate her spies.”

They all nod, Leliana and Cassandra leaving the house together as Adan bows slightly towards Fira, “I’m going to go make sure no one’s stolen anything from the apothecary.” He says and slips out, leaving Cullen and Fira alone.

“…I was worried about you. I’ve seen you stare down a darkspawn magister and an archdemon but _this?_ ” Cullen shakes his head, hand coming up to run his fingers through his hair. “I thought you were going to die. I thought this was going to be it.” He whispers and turns to face Fira fully, his intense gaze set upon her and only her. “Don’t do it again. Please.” He was pleading; Cullen never _pleads._

Fira was taken aback but quickly recovers clearing her throat, “I…won’t.” Fira says softly, and then grabs Cullen’s arm, making him turn back towards her. “I heard you—I heard you pleading.” It was almost too much to bring up, the fact that he had been begging her and probably whatever else in the world for Fira to return…

“…I meant every word.” Cullen’s gaze was intense, it usually is, but this was something completely different. Fira swallows thickly, and she nods. Cullen echoed the gesture and continues.

“I’ll get some forces ready. I still have some pull with remaining ex-templars.” He explains, squeezing her hand tightly before walking out. Fira stands there alone and curiosity plagues her mind. If…it was true that she needed to face her demons (at least a little bit) in order to move on then…

She glances at a staff that’s across the room, her old one ‘Isana’s Song’ that she found in the Deep Roads when helping Shaper Valta. Fira was afraid to try, it had been so long since she felt the exhilaration of being able to use magic. The life that flows through someone is something that no one forgets and always longs for. Her hand reaches up across the room, fingers shaking out of nerves and weariness.

_Please._

Fira begs whatever she can; her own body, the false Gods, the Maker if he even exists, the Titans, the _world. Please work._ It was desperate; foolish even but needed. She falls into a familiar focus and it happens all at once. It was like breathing fresh air once more as electricity flies through her skin into her fingertips at full force. The world was suddenly in vibrant color as the staff is willed across the room and firmly into her hand harder than expected. Fira couldn’t believe it, her hand clenched hard around the wood and tears sprung at her eyes. **_Finally._**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uthenera - The Eternal Sleep
> 
> Ir abelas, ma vhenan - I'm sorry my heart
> 
> Mala suledin nadas - Now you must endure
> 
> (I apologize for any grammar or spelling mistakes)

**Author's Note:**

> Halam'shivanas - the sweet sacrifice of duty
> 
> Las Melava - loosely translated as 'To give time' or 'Given time'
> 
> I was trying to let my choices for the game be known so it's all understood what state the world is in. I'm also trying my best to stick to the lore and looking over a map so I know what the fuck I'm talking about lmao


End file.
